


False Compare

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Angst, Introspection, Other, mentions of BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: Gale and the player character talk about love.
Relationships: Player Character/Lae'zel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	False Compare

“Of all the women in the world,” Gale says, as you share a bottle of wine, “why her?”  
“I don’t have the choice of all the women in the world,” you reply, “and it is very hard to sell the “evil parasite” to one night stands.”  
“You could lie.”  
“I try not to.”  
“But you do. Constantly.”  
“Only to get us out of trouble.”  
“I refuse to believe your options are Lae’zel and a white lie. Perhaps celibacy, too, but-”  
“I might turn into a mindflayer at any moment. I want to live a little.”

Her hands around your throat. Her tongue licking the unbidden tears away. The long nails digging into the rent flesh on your back - Loviatar’s kiss. The priest’s eyes burned after he’d finished with you. Positively divine. His eyes were white fire - all consuming. His glance went from you to Lae’zel. And you knew he understood, and respected you the more for it. 

“Lae’zel may well kill you before then. Are you sure you haven’t cracked any ribs yet?” Gale is oblivious to your wandering mind.

“No, but don’t tell her that. She might take it as a challenge.” Humour takes the edge of that longing.

“I repeat my earlier question.”  
“I restate my previous answer.”

You pull the bottle from his hand and take a swig. You’re not sure where he’s going with this.

“Why your goddess? There are mortal women-”  
“Arrogance, mostly. She made me feel worthy. And powerful. That a goddess could-oh. Right.” For a clever man he can be slow to understand.  
“Lae’zel’s powerful. And strong.”  
“And she sees something in you that you can’t see yourself.”  
“Something like that, yeah.”  
“I mean this with no disrespect,” Gale says, touching your arm. “But are things she sees in you - the things that you’ve done to gain her favour - anything that makes you worthy?”  
“So said by a man with a magical bomb in his chest.”

He’s not wrong. You knew her approval was always on a knife’s edge. You can hear the tieflings still celebrating. You came so close to ending them. The little tiefling children, with eyes like coals and minds sharpened by a life that never stopped being harsh. Goblins would have been dancing around; shrieking their war songs and probably roasting one of those children over an open flame.  
“I don’t like to think that we are shaped by our species,” Gale says. “We all are creatures of infinite possibility. And allowing for culture...but I’ve never met a gentle goblin.”  
“Not many people have met halflings like me, either.”

Gale takes the bottle, drains it, and sets it down.

“I don’t know what to make of you, honestly.”

“Having a parasite inside you changes things. I’m...different to what I was before.”

“Would you have risked so much for someone who cannot love you back?”

“Who said anything about love?”

“You don’t need to. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Did you ever think that Mystra loved you back?”

“I know she did. But Lae’zel-”

“Won’t. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said that. But love makes us foolish. Just don’t let it make you cruel.”

You stand up and start kicking the ashes over the dying embers. She would not stay to hold you. Whim, she said. A warning? Perhaps she’s more aware of these things than people give her credit for. There’s a parasite inside your head and a hole inside your chest.

“How’s your back holding up?

“Nothing that a night’s sleep won’t cure.”

“I wonder,” Gale murmurs, “if the mindflayer remembers the body’s pain after it changes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I grant I never saw a goddess go,  
> My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:  
> And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,  
> As any she belied with false compare.
> 
> Sonnet 130, William Shakespeare


End file.
